Looks Like a Girl, But She's a Flame
by EkoCentric
Summary: A collection of snippet tells an unfortunate event centred around my OC-Ena, a street kid who possesses an unhealthy admiration for explosive things and poisons. This is my first fan fiction, hope you'll be kind to me. A companion illustration is on my dA account, you can check it out through the link on my profile page. Rate T for language.
1. An Unexpected Intruder

**Thank you FenZev for your kindness and betaing!**

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**Chapter 1**

**An Unexpected Intruder**

Even before Fenris entered his mansion, a horrid burnt smell began filling his nostrils. He slowly stepped into the foyer, quietly drew his greatsword, and immediately fell into a combat stance. The elf grimaced when he saw the main hall was suffused with black thin smoke; this might be a trap to lure him into an obscure space while his attackers, possibly slavers, waited in ambush.

For all of his long years of escape, he'd never seen such trick from slavers before - after all they were not widely known for their brainpower, crude as their methods were. Fenris tightened his grip on the hilt and followed the direction where smoke and smell were strongest, which led him to the kitchen. This manoeuvre was getting weirder and weirder; perhaps his consecutive escapes might have driven these particular slavers half crazy? The door to the kitchen was wide open, so Fenris carefully hid behind the doorframe and peered through a layer of thick smoke, preparing himself for a fight. However, what laid before his eyes left him absolutely flabbergasted. He sheathed his weapon and calmed himself, now knowing that the situation was not as deadly as he suspected.

Or he might be entirely wrong, since "luck" would never be his middle name.

"What are you doing here, Ena?"

His question startled the intruder. The redheaded girl turned around and gave him a bright smile, but she didn't bother to stop whatever she was doing. "Oh, hi Fenris! I'm making a firebomb. Found a recipe for this very wicked potion a few days ago. It's nearly done now though, won't be long."

Fenris walked into the kitchen, and taking a closer look, he could see that Ena's face was not only covered with smoke stains, but some of her short hair had been singed. "That explains the smoke and smell, but what are you doing _here,_ in my house?"

Ena looked up at him and rolled her eyes. "Well, my house is made of wood and you know that wood is highly flammable material, right? I can't set my house on fire now, can I?"

Fenris let out a soft grunt and crossed his arms. "So, you just let yourself leisurely into my house instead?"

Ena snorted. "Don't be absurd, of course not. Jonah let me in," the girl said, finishing the answer with her most cheeky grin.

"Jonah?" If Fenris' brows were not raised and nearly varnish to his hairline before, now they surely were.

"That corpse in your hall. Not at all a chatty chap, that one."

Her explanation caused him a heavy sigh and a rub at his temple. Great, now she named the bloody corpse as well. Today was proving to be absolutely wearisome. Hawke had asked him for his help with a job on the Wounded Coast earlier that morning, and now this. It wouldn't have been so bad if that scruffy _mage_ didn't tag along. Varric's inane probing was just _mildly_ insufferable, but that abomination...

Fenris closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, he saw Ena raising a round vial containing a bubbling fiery red thick liquid. There was a narrow line of a burn on her forearm, but she seemed oblivious to her injury. Grinning at him, Ena gave one of the vials a gentle shake. She let out a snigger when she caught an alarming look on Fenris' face. "Don't worry, it's perfectly safe, as long as you don't drop it on a hard surface."

"How very reassuring." Fenris snorted, but his eyebrows were still pulled tight, and his gaze never left the offending object in Ena's hand. She began to fill other vials with the explosive liquid, a thin vapour floating from the uncorked ones. The girl gave him a jolt when she suddenly thrusted one of the filled vials in front of his face.

"Here, you can have one, or two, or three, or as many as you like. I made quite a lot," Ena said with a laugh, as if they were discussing having tea and a biscuit.

"I am a warrior. I don't need your nefarious rogue tricks." He grumbled and took a tiny step away from the vial.

Ena didn't notice his hostile stance, or maybe this petite human girl was making fun of him? "Come on! If you use a firebomb, then you have something to outdo Anders when he throws his fireball magic. It'll be fun!" As she spoke, she was waving more vials with the horrid liquid sloshing dangerously in her hand.

"I do not _need _to compete with that _abomination_," Fenris growled menacingly, and thankfully that was enough warning for her to give up and put the vial down.

"Alright, alright," she conceded. "No competing with mages, I get it. No need to get your knickers in a twist, Fenris." She wrinkled her nose at him and shrugged his offence off with ease.

When all the innocent-looking glass vials were filled and transformed into deadly firebombs, Ena started packing them away and began cleaning up her mess. The tabletop was spotted with burns here and there, not that Fenris minded since he barely used this part of the mansion. Even though Ena didn't ask for his help, he found himself helping her with the clean up. They chatted away merrily while they were working - well, it was Ena who did most of the talking, while Fenris randomly offered a short response or a grunt.

When they were finished, the warrior and the rogue wrapped up their chat as Fenris saw her to the door. He was already planning on retreating to his bedroom, having a long bath, and opening a bottle or two of wine, when suddenly Ena drew up short just before she left the mansion and turned to face him, her expression serious.

"Oh, one more thing! Can I grow Rashvine Nettle in your garden too? I want to make a dispel poison, and can't find it at any bloody herbalist stalls here. Massive thanks!" With that, she waved her good bye and stepped out into bustling Hightown before he could formulate any response.

"_Fentis bei umo canavarum_!"

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**Note: A pronunciation of Ena is "ey + nit" (the feminine of the name Aidan meaning "little fire.")**

******The title of the story is a lyric from Girl on Fire by Alicia Keys.**


	2. Fluorescent Adolescent

**Guess what? The story's not finished! It's absolutely true when they say your characters just won't keep quiet about themselves. So here we are being harassed by my lovely Little Fire again! The idea of this chapter popped out from a sketch of Ena and Isabela I sketched earlier (on my dA account, of course) and tied with Isabela's Codex Entry: After the Deep Roads for the second half of the plot.  
Hope you dear readers will bear with me (again). I appreciate all your reviews, favourites and followings!  
A massive thanks to Fenzev for her wonderful sympathy, patience and sharpness in being my beta reader.**

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**Chapter 2**

**Fluorescent Adolescent**

"Isabela! I look stupid!" An anxious voice called out from behind a folding screen in Isabela's private suite. "I can't even breathe in this f-"

"Nonsense, that lovely corset's made of genuine Antivan leather," the pirate queen interjected dismissively. "It's the definition of sexiness! So come out already!" she shouted back.

Ena stepped out from behind the screen in a huff. That said Antivan leather corset, though it looked wonderful and finely crafted, barely covered her upper part. While it wrapped around her torso, _very tightly_, it left her shoulders exposed, and displayed a glimpse of her cleavage.

The mischievous grin on Isabela's face made Ena feel even more uncomfortable. The curvy pirate stood up from the foot of her bed and walked slowly towards Ena. "There, now, it's not that hard, is it?" Isabela pulled the smaller woman to stand in front of the mirror. "Come on! You should look more happy wearing this sovereign's worth outfit." She pinched Ena's cheek playfully.

The redheaded rogue swatted her hand away. "Funny, it should have more materials on it though, for what it costs," Ena grumbled. "Well Isabela? Are you happy now? Can I go back to wearing _proper _clothes?"

"Oh sweet thing," Isabela purred. "Where would be the fun in that?"

The laugh that accompanied her question did not sound funny to Ena in the slightest. She rubbed her forehead. "Why did I agree to this?" Certainly this was not one of her brightest decisions, allowing the former captain to decide the consequence for losing their card game earlier.

"Firstly, you already lost all of your coins to me, and second, I'm _bored_," Isabela grinned wickedly. "Come on, let's go downstairs and see if you _really_ look stupid."

"I hate you."

* * *

The perk of being a smaller person was that people barely noticed her, which benefited Ena's choice of living as a rogue (Ena preferred this word rather than thief, as she did not merely steal people's belongings. But when she did it, she was quite sure that she did it very stylishly). When Ena appeared as scantily clad as Isabela, nonetheless less curvaceous, (which, she admitted lamely, struck her self-conscious about her body quite strongly), and felt the weight of every eye in the Hanged Man staring at them, she had never wish for the earth to open up and swallow her down on the spot. Or maybe get struck by lighting? Anything the Maker could do to prevent her from this embarrassment. The distance between the stairs and the bar had never seemed so far, and if Isabela was aware of her edginess, that wench had paid no mind. In contrast to Ena's apprehensive stride, Isabela took as much time as possible to stroll around, winking at everyone in the tavern.

"Andraste's great flaming ass! Rivaini, have you grown your younger version counterpart?"

A sudden remark from the table at the corner made both their heads whip around to the source of the familiar voice. Varric wasted no time as he retrieved his notebook out of his jacket right before both women walked up to him.

"Are you calling me old, Varric?" Isabela raised a brow , though she didn't seem offended or angry.

"She is truly younger than you, so it's not an insult," Varric retorted. "Now tell me everything, this I have to hear." The dwarf swapped his gaze back and forth between the dark skinned woman and the little redheaded girl. Ena shifted on her feet, blushing slightly.

"Isabela thought it'd be an excellent idea to have me dress like one of the Blooming Rose girls so that she wouldn't be the only one called a whore. Though I do find it a bit strange, because even the Blooming Rose girls don't dress indecently in public," Ena responded hotly. She wouldn't have been this twitchy if Varric was the only one seated at the table. No, the Maker had the worst sense of humour, because all of her companions were there, well, except the Guard Captain Aveline. She tried to avoid everyone's eyes, but couldn't help hearing Merrill squeal. "Oh Ena! But you look lovely!"

Isabela laughed. "Relax duckling, no one would ever call you a whore, trust me. That term applies only to a _real _woman," she finished with a lopsided grin.

Ena narrowed her eyes angrily at the pirate.

"Oooh I sense a cat fight!" Anders cheered, which earned him a disapproving grunt and a scowl from Fenris. Varric disengaged himself from the conversation and scribed rapidly into his notebook.

"Anders, shut up," Hawke hissed.

"Play nice girls, and don't worry, Aveline is not here to call any of you by that term," the mage offered helpfully, but it was too late.

The two women stared at each other and started throwing insults. Ena crossed her arms and lifted up her chin defiantly. "At least I still have many many _many_ years to be called that!"

"Said the girl who barely fit into the smallest corset ever made," Isabela scoffed mockingly.

"Unlike you, without that stupid thing you call a dress to lift your tits up. I bet them'd sag down to your knees!'

"They wouldn't! You take that back, you tiny c-"

"Oi! Stop it, will you?!" Hawke interrupted forcefully.

Both of them stopped attacking each other with verbal assaults, but then Isabela's eyes sparked a roguish gleam, and without a word, twin daggers were drawn from her back.

"You know, sweet thing, there's only one way to settle it." Isabela whirled the twin blades casually, to which Ena echoed with the same motion.

"Bring it on, slag."

The rest of the table held their breath while Hawke was hiding her face behind both hands. "No, not again."

* * *

"What happened here?!" Aveline demanded.

"Looks like they were arguing over who's best to get called a whore or something, then everybody got on a fight," one of the Hanged Man's regulars piped up.

The Guard Captain inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. When she finally calmed her frustration, Aveline scanned her surroundings. Half of the Lowtown market had turned into a complete mess; several merchant stalls were damaged or overturned completely. She had heard the report from the guards on duty that over twenty people became involved in the fight from what started off as a duel, and then the bar brawl piled out into Lowtown. All thanks to these two rowdies.

Ena, at least, seemed to be a bit penitent. Isabela, on the other hand, was winking shamelessly at her. Aveline was about to order her men to take the rogues to the Keep, when Ena interrupted her.

"Aveline, er, Guard Captain, can I change my clothes before we go?" the redheaded rogue asked as she offered a lame smile.

So this was actually her reason of penitence. Aveline knotted her eyebrows and looked over her shoulder briefly, then turned back and barked an order. "To the Keep!"

"_Bollocks_," Ena swore under her breath.

* * *

After spending the past two weeks in the brig, Isabela and Ena were released under the forceful demand from Aveline that they make a promise not to duel on public property again. The two rogues walked silently toward Lowtown, both lost in their own thoughts.

"You know sweet thing, we never did find out the result," Isabela said, breaking the silence.

The smaller girl whipped her head to look at the pirate, a mischievous grin plastered on her face. "A rematch, then?"

"You say the sweetest things, love," Isabela purred as she slung her arm over her friend's shoulders.

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**A/N: Title is from a song of Arctic Monkeys. It's about being young and all ****excitement of youth, or something along that line.**


	3. Sympathy For Lady Vengeance

This chapter is a sequence of previous chapter, our little Ena had her vengeance. Though it can be read as stand-alone as well. It is very long, because these crazy lot just can't stop talking. Sorry for that!

Thank you all for reading and reviewing. Any kind of reviews mean so much to me, so if you have something on your mind about my story, please let me know. I'd love to hear from you my dear readers!

Massive thanks to FenZev as usual, for being my wonderful beta reader!

EDIT: A small fix on some dialogues.

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**Sympathy for Lady Vengeance**

It was a regular night at the Hanged Man, a gathering of Hawke's dysfunctional family. It was also the time for everybody to catch up with each other, to listen to Varric's wild tales or to watch Anders and Fenris bickering about mage and templar issues while playing Diamondback or Wicked Grace. Some nights Aveline would join their merry band of misfits if she could remember to actually _live _like normal people. And most nights Isabela would retire from the game before the last hand to do something or, more often than not, _someone_.

Tonight, they just finished listening to Hawke brief them on tomorrow's job at Sundermount. It was still quite early, so everyone agreed to play a few hands of Diamondback. Varric expertly shuffled the cards and dealt everyone a hand as per usual, except for Anders and Merrill, who were happy being spectators. After a few hands, Hawke noticed that a certain rogue seemed different - not her usual self. Normally, Ena would be trading playful barbs with Varric and Isabela, or pestering Fenris with some bad jokes. But not tonight. The girl in question just kept staring at the entrance. _N__ow that__'__s odd_.

"You seem to be too quiet today, Ena," Hawke stated. "Is there something wrong?"

The sudden question shot at her nearly made Ena jump, but she managed to keep her wits about her.

"No, nothing," answered the girl. Ena tilted her head a little. "Why? Can't I just be nice and quiet?" Ena countered to the mage, earning a raised eyebrow from the brooding elf who sat next to her. Ena saw Fenris' expression and stuck her tongue out at him.

Varric did not let the chance slip out of his grasp; he decided to chime in immediately. "The Archdemon would invite the Grey Wardens to its tea party the day you were nice and quiet, Bonfire." The dwarf's joke was accompanied by his loud laugh.

On Ena's other side, Isabela draped one arm around the younger rogue's shoulders and leaned closer to her ear. "There's no fun in being quiet, Puffling. I prefer a screamer." The pirates whisper was hardly that quiet, causing the redhead to blush as she was certain everyone else had heard.

Fenris coughed. "Can we get back to playing Diamondback?" asked the elf, with Hawke muttering her _very rare_ agreement with the elven warrior.

Isabela smiled at him lecherously but drew her arm back from the other girl's shoulders. As they were about to begin another hand, the card players were interrupted by the sudden sound of a sickly romantic tune. All eyes at the table turned to the source of the music. A band of musicians entered the tavern, led by none other than the Bad Poet. The crowd drifted apart to allow room for the leader and his group. The Bad Poet gave the musicians a signal to stop playing their song right as they reached their destination. Hawke and her friends couldn't be more surprised when the Bad Poet stopped right in front of Isabela, who bore a shocked look on her face.

"Isabela! My dusky goddess," the Bad Poet said, as he sank to one knee in front of her, a stupid wide smile on his face. "Please accept my humble reciprocal, passionate love for you." He then produced a bunch of red roses, neatly tied with a matching red ribbon and presented it to the pirate. Her expression had changed from shock to fury, while her friends all exchanged glances.

"What in the Maker's name …" Hawke uttered quietly to the scene that staggered her.

Isabela massaged her forehead. "Reciprocal? Have you really lost your mind, you bugger?" she asked angrily.

The Bad Poet was taken aback, Isabela's harsh words erasing the smile from the man's face. "But, you sent the letter to me and said that-"

He was interrupted as Isabela snapped. "What bloody letter?"

The Bad Poet's eyes widened, and slowly he retrieved a folded parchment from his coat pocket and shakily handed it to her. Isabela snatched the letter, unfolded it, and began to read. Her eyes quickly scanned the contents of the letter, all the while her face remaining impassive. Everyone held their breath as they waited for her to finish, except of course for Varric, who was busy scribbling everything down on his small notebook.

Suddenly Isabela had her dagger at the poor man's throat. "Lucky for you that I'm in quite a jovial mood today." Isabela shifted her dagger with its tip now pointing under the Bad Poet's chin. "Now get out of my sight before I lose my patience!"

The Bad Poet dropped the rose bouquet on the floor hastily, and scrambled away after the trail of his hired musicians. Isabela picked up the bouquet, turned it around as if to admire the beauty of it - even though her expression showed otherwise. The pirate then stood abruptly, which startled everyone at the table. For several heartbeats she remained in that fixed position, and none of the others dared to speak, waiting for her next move.

They didn't have to wait long, as she suddenly threw the flower bouquet on the table in anger.

Varric, always the quick witted one, tried to break the mounting tension in the air. "Sorry, Rivaini. We only accept bets of sovereign or silver." He was successful in lifting the mood at the table, as everyone laughed, and finally Isabela returned to her seated position.

"Tell that to the Bad Poet," Isabela groused. "What a useless git."

Ena tried her best not to laugh, _much_. "His head is full of ridiculous lines for his pitiful poetry and an image of his beautiful _Dusky Goddess_, Isabela. I doubt he has room to listen to anyone else." The younger rogue patted her friend's shoulder empathetically.

Isabela swatted Ena's hand away and narrowed her eyes dangerously in her direction as Ena failed miserably at stifling her laughter. "Somehow I know you are behind this Kit," Isabela stated.

Ena gasped dramatically as she feigned innocence. "You wound me Isabela. Why would I do such thing?"

Isabela's sharp eyes and her apprehension of the girl's antics did not fail her, as she noticed a mischievous gleam in the young rogue's eyes, as well as a hint of a sly smile on her lips.

Hawke sighed. "Considering how often you two pull pranks on each other, I'd say you have so many reasons to do."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, O Mighty Leader." Ena pouted, before addressing the pirate again. "I don't understand why you're so mad Izzy dear." Isabela held two fingers up to the red-headed rogue in response; the pirate hated it when someone called her Izzy. Ena dismissed her insult and continued. "You got a bouquet of beautiful red roses! It is a very nice sentiment. No one ever give me anything," she added with a whimper, exaggerating her saddened expression.

"I think you would rather have a bouquet of deathroot," remarked Fenris.

"True," the redhead chuckled. She then countered good-naturedly, "but more importantly, are you going to be the one to give me this bouquet?"

Before Fenris could respond, the other elf at the table gave her a response. Oblivious as always, Merill chipped, "but deathroot is so horrible! What about embrium? I know how much you like mixing things together with all sorts of ingredients. I bet you'll love it too. You can make many kind of potions from embrium. It is also beautiful and has a very nice smell!"

Ena snickered. "Sorry Merrill, you confuse me with Anders over there, which I find very offending." Her lips quirked amusingly at the blonde mage, to which Anders narrowed his eyes at her, but with a small smile curved at the corner of his mouth. Ena turned her attention back to the Dalish elf. "I like making poisons, not potions," she clarified.

"Oh. Right!" Merrill titled her head to one side. "But maybe you can add a little embrium essence into your poison, it may smell a little nicer!" Everybody busted into a laugh, and Merrill turned her head from left to right in confusion.

"I like the way you think, Merrill," said Ena, after she got her laughter under control.

Anders took a chance to lean in from his opposite seat. "You know Ena, learning to make potions is a good idea. We always need health and healing poultices."

The rogue pretended to consider his suggestion. It wasn't like she did not know how to brew a potion. It was inevitable for her to learn to make an antidote too, like any other good poison maker. The art of making potions was not that much different, if she had a mind to do it, that is. Back to the conversation at hand, she replied to their healer. "That depends, will you teach me Ser Mage?" Ena asked, grinning and batting her eyelashes at the mage.

Fenris huffed and eyed the mage rather menacingly. He noticed Isabela appraising him from his peripheral view, but he ignored her and averted his gaze down to the drink in front of him. It was a casual flirt and most likely just a joke, but still, the idea of Ena spending time with the mage was disturbing. Anders was a dangerous apostate, and Fenris did not trust the abomination to be in a company of anyone.

Isabela smirked briefly at the elf, and then jokingly berated the other two. "Stop flirting you two, unless you want me to join in," she finished with a wink at the mage.

Anders shuddered and hastily offered to order everyone a drink at the bar. The dark skinned rogue then turned her head to face her fellow rogue. "Why don't we get back to that awful shenanigan? Because I'm still mad at it!" She jabbed her finger at Ena. "You. Explain to me why that barmy Bad Poet had that stupid love letter from me!" The handwriting in that letter uncannily looked like her own, and its content also sounded awfully familiar, but she was never going to admit that out loud. "I can't remember ever writing such a cheesy letter, but even if I had, I wouldn't have written for that doofus. You made this bullshit up, didn't you?"

Ena wrinkled her nose. "Now 'made up' is such a harsh accusation, Isabela dear," she crooned, but the pirate yanked her hair angrily. "Ow! Alright," Ena tried to let her hair free from the furious pirate's hand. She rubbed her head at the painful spot. "Varric gave me some pieces of your 'friend fiction', and then we picked some parts, edited and popped them in the letter." Ena lifted her mug to her confidante. "Varric forged your handwriting, of course. He's such an artist!"

Varric tossed her an exasperated look. "Now is not a good time to recognise my calligraphic prowess, Flash," the dwarf muttered under his breath.

Isabela raised her eyebrows "You too, Varric? Such a bunch of back-stabbers I'm surrounding myself with." The pirate sighed and shook her head in mock distress.

"We just live up to your standards my dear Isabela," Ena voiced and hugged her sort-of mentor lovingly.

Hawke snickered. "I think you taught her a little _too _well, Isabela. You should be proud actually."

Isabela punched the mage's shoulder lightly in response. The rest of the group laughed, and despite being at a receiving end of this prank, Isabela laughed along with her friends.

* * *

The afternoon sun shone from a cloudless sky as Hawke and her companions brought their job to an end at Sundermount the next day. They managed to make the path clear of a group of raiders and Tal-Vashoth. Hawke and Merrill chatted away merrily at the front of the group while making their return journey. Sometimes they paused their strides briefly as Merrill pointed to Hawke some plants or flowers or butterflies.

Varric walked behind the two mages. It was quite a lovely day and they finished their job fairly quickly, but Varric did not share Merrill's love of nature. His mind drifted away to the civilisation of the city and drinks at the Hanged Man. The dwarf was so lost in his thought that he did not realise that their small group was short one member. He walked back until he reached where the path bent at the corner. He then spotted the most shocking scene he had ever witnessed. In front of him, just a few metres away, Fenris was plucking a red flower from its stem.

"Well, well, wonders never cease! I've never classified you as the flower type, Elf."

Fenris was startled by Varric, and whirled around to face the dwarf who was strolling toward him. Hastily, he hid the flowers he had just picked behind his back. The elf tried to calm his anxiety but thought sulkily…_Venhedis__!__O__f all the people, it had to be this busybody of a dwarf_. Varric could see a blush spreading across the elf's cheeks and up to the tips of his ears. Fenris finally regained his composure, and at last he grunted, "one word, Dwarf. One word, and I will-"

He was interrupted by the dwarf, who held up both his hands. "Yeah, yeah, you'll go all glowy and rip my bleeding heart out of my chest. I know. Your adoring little secret stays safe with me, Elf."

The mischievous grin on the dwarf's face contrasted everything he had said, which made Fenris even more bristled. He gave the dwarven rogue a sceptical look for a brief moment. "Good, or else I will show you exactly how fast your heart can bleed."

Varric responded with a deep mocking bow that earned him an irritated look from the tattooed elf. The dwarf had always known the way to get under his skin, very much like that girl Ena; perhaps it was a rogue thing. After a moment of silence passed, the elf turned to walk away, but suddenly paused his movement. "And keep in mind that it's not going to be writing material for your story either," he said over his shoulder. Knowing Varric was a masterclass busybody, one couldn't be too cautious.

"Pfft, smart ass," Varric mumbled. The elf stormed away, but Varric noticed the way the broody elf tucked away the flower in his pouch with such care one would do to injured animals. A small smile pulled at the corner of Varric's lips; it was so fascinating to see that the angsty porcupine of an elf was capable of such a gentle action. The dwarf made a mental note to memorise this rare occurrence; the broody elf did not say anything about drawing, right? Hearing Hawke's voice calling for him from a distance, Varric followed the elf to join the other companions on their way back to Kirkwall.

* * *

Ena smiled to herself as she heard the sound of soft footsteps approaching her. She closed the book in her hands and looked up to greet the lyrium tattooed elf from her seat. "Good evening Fenris."

The warrior snorted and walked into the room. "Do make yourself at home," he said as he sat himself down in the opposite chair in front of the fireplace. The flames crackled, radiating heat to warm the room.

The redheaded rogue giggled in response. She quietly watched the elf as he settled comfortably into his seat, enjoying the warmth of the fire. It had been three years since they first met, and after numerous occasions of her 'unprompted visits,' the elf felt more relaxed whenever he found her in his mansion by herself. His piercing green eyes met hers, which pulled her back to the present. Ena cleared her throat to hide her embarrassment at being caught daydreaming about all the times they had spent together.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" asked the elf. He started to remove his spiky gauntlets while waiting for her answer, which unsurprisingly never come.

The young rogue drummed her fingers on the armrests and gave him an impish grin instead. "You know, weird thing happened two days ago," she began, dodging his question. "My doorstep was miraculously blooming with a flower. How marvellous is that!"

Fenris crossed his arms and raised one eyebrow. "Perhaps you let that _w__itch_ come to your house too frequently," he said with a scowl as he mentioned the blood mage elf.

Undisturbed by his sudden foul mood, Ena felt amused at the abrupt change of his expression. "Don't you want to know what kind of flower it sprouted?" she asked.

Fenris could see the familiar teasing gleam in her eyes. He kept his expression indifferent, knowing that this little mischievous rogue was trying to gauge his reaction. Eventually he shrugged. "Why would I be interested in your magical flowers?"

Ena grinned even wider. "You probably wouldn't. But it's very interesting that there was embrium laid down on my doorstep shortly after that flower came up in our conversation back in the Hanged Man." She leaned closer towards the Tevinter elf. "Anyway, I appreciate your sentiment, Fenris."

Fenris' eyes widened slightly at her speculation. "I…how did you know?" he stuttered, but then his eyes flashed defiantly in realisation. "Varric, that nosey dwarf," Fenris muttered under his breath.

Ena laughed triumphantly and clapped her hands in delight. "So it was you, wasn't it? I was just taking a guess. I think if it was Merrill, she probably just gave them to me directly." She flashed him a cheeky grin. Fenris looked aside, his cheeks a little redden. The redhead's laughter died down when an acknowledgement struck her instantly. She raised an eyebrow. "Wait a minute, you said something about Varric. Did he know about this too?" the rogue asked in incredulity.

Fenris sighed. "Sort of. He just so happened to have seen me plucking it while we were out at Sundermount."

"Oh this is good!" Ena laughed out loud, again.

"It warms my heart to know that you find my discomfort very enjoyable," the annoyed elf grumbled sarcastically in response.

Ena tried to school her composure but was far from success. "I can't believe he didn't tell half of Kirkwall already!" She stared at the elf for a moment, then an understanding dawned on her. Even the Maker could not stop Varric from telling his stories, especially one with such good material like this one. "You threatened him with bodily harm, didn't you?"

Fenris shrugged. "I have a reputation to maintain."

"Your virtue won't come to harm by me, Serah." The rogue bowed her head mockingly, then her face looked a little bit solemn. "And here's a little something to show my gratitude." She fished a delicate vial from one of her pouches and handed it over to him.

Fenris reached out for it tentatively. Though its contents looked less dangerous than what the rogue had normally done, he still couldn't quite trust the deep red coloured liquid inside the glass vial. Once it was in his hand, he carefully turned it around to examine its content. "What is this?" the elf asked tentatively.

Ena propped her arm up on the armrest and rested her head on her palm as she explained. "A mighty offense potion. Got the recipe from Lady Elegant. It's a mixture between embrium, elfroot, and spindleweed." Fenris nodded, and waited for Ena to give more details. "According to the recipe, it will work its way through your muscles and mind, thus heightening combat prowess for a time," the red-haired rogue elaborated.

The elven warrior observed her gift with satisfaction, and after a moment, he glanced back at her. "Honestly, you don't have to do this. I didn't expect anything in return when I decided to give those flowers to you."

His words were filled with such sincerity that it made her heart skip a beat. However, her roguish instinct kicked in. "Well, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were sweet on me, Fenris," she said as she smiled at him impishly.

A small smile tugged at one corner of the elf's lips. "Don't flatter yourself. I was just thinking about a way to prevent my house from more smoke and fire, that's all. This should've kept you busy for a while." But how wrong he was, as it only took her just two days to come up with this potion. Still, Fenris couldn't help but admire her talent in crafting.

Ena began a cheery protest. "But that smoke gives such a warm, lovely, cosy touch to your miserable excuse of a house!" In truth, Fenris did not mind his house being smoked anymore, as long as the rogue could keep it to the minimum within the space of the kitchen. They shared an amiable look for a brief moment, then Ena continued. "Anyway, don't make this a habit though. You're confusing me with your mixed signals."

Fenris straightened his back. "There's the limit of my insanity, rest assured," the elf replied sternly, but a curve at the corner of his mouth told differently.

Ena shook her head. "Living sanely in Kirkwall, that's a paradox, you know." She then flashed him with her infamous cheeky smile.

Fenris was the one who shook his head this time. "You always have to have a last line, haven't you?"

The rogue smile wider. "Oh, I'll outlive the Maker himself to throw a punchline, just wait and see!"

"You're unbelievable," he snorted.

However, that did not lessen her spirit. "Why, thank you!" Ena chuckled. Clearly his remark did not lessen her spirit at all.

"That's not a compliment," Fenris retorted. Though he was very sure that he wasn't going to win this squabble.

Ena winked and said, "I'm not picky."

The stern elf couldn't help but smile. He closed his fingers around the small vial, and considered trying it out on his next mercenary job. He also made a mental note to gather more herbs for his rogue friend.

* * *

A/N: The title was from a Korean film of the same name. Though their genre is hugely different, that film is completely not of this sort. The title just serves the chapter's theme quite nicely.


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